Of a somewhat similar nature is the following story, also related to
me by Private Scotton. A Turkish prisoner had been caught. He was an
officer, a brilliantly-educated man, accomplished in several modern
tongues. After examining him the company captain resolved to dispatch
the prisoner to Brigade Headquarters, where he would have proved very
useful. A corporal was told off to escort the prisoner, and on arrival
at "H.Q." handed to a staff captain the official document containing
full particulars of his prisoner. Having read through the report, the
officer ordered the prisoner to be brought to him.
"It's not possible," responded the corporal.
"How not possible?" demanded the other angrily. "Has he escaped?"
News of the Turk had already been telephoned through to Headquarters,
and the staff there had resolved to take full advantage of the man's
knowledge.
"No; he's not escaped exactly," commenced the corporal, slowly. "He
spoke English, and on the way here we talked of different things. He
spoke of his home in Syria, and then we got talking about prisoners----"
"But what's all this to do with me?" asked the officer, sharply. "Why
have you arrived here without the prisoner?"
"We spoke of prisoners," repeated the man, stolidly, "and I asked him
what had become of my 'cobber,'[13] who was captured in a sap-head a
week ago. The officer remembered him. 'He was spying on us,' said he.
'My men brought him in to me.'
"'And what became of him?' I asked.
"'Oh, I had him shot,' he told me.
"You see, sir," concluded the corporal, "he shot my chum. That's all,
sir."
"But I don't understand," exclaimed the staff captain.
"He shot my chum," repeated the corporal, "so there was only one thing
to do."
"So you shot _him_?" asked the officer, drumming his fingers on the
table.
The soldier nodded. Then he saluted smartly and marched out.